


running if you call my name

by fanfictionandcats



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, amy's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictionandcats/pseuds/fanfictionandcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(amy & jake celebrating closing a case by getting drunk.)</p>
<p>“Two steps ahead. Like a regular Bonnie & Clyde team.” Peralta declares happily, slamming another pitcher of beer down on their table (next to the chips and salsa Rosa ordered)</p>
<p>“Only without all the gonorrhea.” She blurts out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	running if you call my name

**Author's Note:**

> HE LIKES HER SO MUCH (◠ω◠)
> 
> idk this is way too short and disjointed but i wanted to post it bc i'm v emotional about these two!!!!

She knows she’s had a little too much to drink when she digs out a chip that fell down into her bra a few minutes ago and doesn’t even try to hide it.

They’re at the bar - Friday night of a grueling week of dumb petty theft and leads with dead ends, and a whole lot of paperwork. However, that day her and Peralta had finally managed to nab the guy who’d been killing off old Russian ladies by baiting him with Boyle in a dress.

So, she’s letting herself celebrate.

“Two steps ahead. Like a regular Bonnie & Clyde team.” Peralta declares happily, slamming another pitcher of beer down on their table (next to the chips and salsa Rosa ordered)

“Only without all the gonorrhea.” She blurts out.

“What?”

Rosa raises her eyebrow at the both of them, but takes the pitcher quickly, pouring herself another pint and then disappearing.

“They both suffered from gonorrhea.”

“Why - How would you know that?”

“I watched a documentary. And you know, that metaphor doesn’t even work because they were outlaws and we work for the NYPD - ”

“Okay nevermind. Good solve, UP TOP!”

She tries to high-five him but her motor skills aren’t exactly top-tier at the moment, and his are worse. They miss totally, and try a few more times until they finally get it.

“See, you never would have gotten _that_ if you’d left."

It’s the second time he’s brought it up in the past few days. She smiles inwardly remembering his letter of recommendation, and him spewing all that responsible-adult talk while sweating through his shirt in the middle of the Major Crimes’ office. It made her happier than she would have guessed, him not wanting her to leave. Him saying she was a good detective. Him acting like he liked being her partner.

_...It sucks a little less when I get to do it with you…_

The words played through her muddled head like a huge parade band, each syllable magnified as she took another shot graciously pushed to her by Gina.

It’s getting harder for her to stop staring at Peralta as he rattles off some other insane story that he’s obviously making up as he goes along. He gets braggy when he’s drunk. And then usually loses spectacularly at darts.

The night goes on and she watches him knock back a shot, talk to the bartender, laugh at something the Sergeant says. After a while, he comes back and they play quarters (she wins, obviously.)

By the time they’re both good and drunk, she steps outside to try to catch a cab home.

Jake follows her, perhaps a little too closely. (it’s Jake now, because… because she’s drunk and it’s hard to enunciate Peralta. That’s all.)

She pauses at the curb, and he almost completely walks into her. To stop her from tripping out into the street, he steadies her with one hand gripping her hip from behind.

A chill runs up her spine and she breaks away from him, a twinge of heat blooming in her cheeks. She can feel it and hopes it doesn’t show.

“I’m fine, Jake.”

"I'm fine too."

"Go inside - I can get myself - myself a cab by myself!"

“LET ME HELP YOU.”

They both stick their hands out to hail a cab, each trying to lean out farther than the other.

“You’re drunker than I am, I can do it!”

Eventually, a cab jerkily switches two lanes of traffic to pull up in front of them. She opens the door and lets her eyes shut, mumbling the driver her address.

 

* * *

 

They’re almost six full blocks away before she opens them again and realizes Jake’s still here.

“Jake!”

He flinches at the shrill of her voice. “Ehhhh, what?!”

“What’re you doing?”

“Helping you get a cab.”

The driver stops suddenly, sending them both pitching forward into the glass partition. She hands him a ten and starts across the street towards her apartment, Peralta stumbling after her.

“Ow, shit.” He rubs his forehead.

“But now you’re all the way at my - my apartment!” She says annoyedly.

But she keeps walking and he keeps following. There’s a lump rising in her throat and she sort of just wishes he’d go, because she can vaguely sense him staring at her ass and it’s making her feel… not disgusted.

“Go. Home.”

“I don’t wanna.” He whines.

She stops in front of her door, turning and crossing her arms. Why’s he still here?

She raises her eyebrows at him, but he just grins dopily at her.

“Give me a hug Santiago, you’re the best.” For a second, he forgets to use his arms, so he basically just rests his chin on her shoulder. She’s not sure what to do, they’ve never been this close without it being a joke, or on the job with a perp, or something.

He smells like Old Spice. She inhales it by accident and it - it smells good on him.

His hair is messy and his shirt is untucked and sometimes when he smiles he looks like some fifteen year old kid who’d just smoked weed for the first time. He’s goofy and dumb and… and stupid, but he is a great detective and a good friend and maybe kind of sexy sometimes - _jesus_ , is she even _hearing_ herself!?

No, she can’t hear anything over the surround-sound pounding of her heart in her ears. His lips are too close to her neck and she’s struggling not to shiver.

When he finally picks his head up, his nose brushes against hers. And then she kisses him.

He makes a startled yelp, but then catches on and lets his hands drop to hold her hips. He kisses her back earnestly, and she suddenly feels incredibly sober and alive, because Jake’s kissing her and it’s good. It escalates quickly, and then there are tongues involved and he backs her up into her apartment door. She tries to keep her hands at his sides but they move, up his neck and into his hair.

It feels like a relief, like finally pushing yourself down the waterslide after waiting for five minutes at the top, staring at the bottom. He licks into her mouth clumsily, trapping her between the door and himself, and she feels her fingers wind around his hair, gripping it a little too hard. She’s worried about it for a split second, but he makes a noise in the back of his throat and his hands tighten and dig into her skin. Like he liked it.

Her knees are turning to mush and she forgets where she is for a split second.

He kisses her greedily, like she’s going to run any second and shove him away and she should do that, she should because what they’re doing is completely unprofessional and weird and _what would the Captain say?_

She finally pulls away, sucking in breath quickly. He’s still too close to her, lips only inches from hers.

“Whoa.” He breathes.

It makes her heart swell. _Shit._

Panicked, she shoves him away and chirps strangledly, “Um, goodnight!”

And slams the door in his face.

_Smooth, Santiago. Real smooth._


End file.
